Left Behind
by Athelassa
Summary: No one likes to be left behind, Aragorn least of all. While he has to stay at Helm’s Deep after the battle he learns to understand that he is not the only one who is left behind. Friendship only, no romance, no slash. Slightly AU.
1. Chapter One

**Left behind**

by Athelas  
  


Summary: No one likes to be left behind, Aragorn least of all. While he has to stay at Helm's Deep after the battle he learns to understand that he is not the only one who is left behind. Friendship only, no romance, no slash. Slightly AU.

Disclaimer: Most of the characters in this story belong to J.R.R Tolkien whom I admire greatly. It is his masterpiece, I only lend his characters for my own pleasure, not for money.

Genre: Drama (**Non-Slash**)

Status: Work-in-progress

Feedback: Leave a review or write an e-mail!  
Every feedback, be it constructive criticism or approval, is much appreciated!

A/N: I want to thank Cheryl W for looking through my story and encouraging me with her praise and help. The only reason why you won't stumble over mistakes all through this story is because she helped me correct all the errors a non-native English speaker does while writing. =) Yes, I am still learning English in school and I like it a lot, but it is still far from being perfect.

This story won't be a very long one, only about four or five chapters. I will try and update regularly but at the moment I am very busy and I won't make any promises. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy reading my little story.

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**Chapter One**

He was floating in darkness. His body seemed weightless, hanging somewhere in a cosy blackness. Briefly he wondered how he had gotten there but worries and solid thoughts were not made for this place and soon melted away.

Time seemed to pass by, but it did not matter to him. A tiny thought, more a feeling than a serious reflection, began nagging in his mind, even though he tried to ignore it.

There had been something before. Something was happening. He was in this darkness for a reason, but he could not remember what the reason was.

"Lord Aragorn? Please, open your eyes!"

He heard a voice. He _knew _that voice! But his thoughts were still hazy, his mind unwilling to return to the voice, to solid ground. He tried to bury himself deeper in the comfortable blankets of nothingness, but it was too late.

Aches and pains began to awaken everywhere in his body, even in parts he did not even know that they could hurt. A lot. Simultaneously he became aware of the fact that he lay on the hard ground, the coldness of stone seeping into his body.

_'Not nice,' _his body told him and he agreed whole-heartedly.

"Lord Aragorn! I know you are awake! Open your eyes, now, or I will go and fetch your Elf companion!"

Elf companion? Who could that be?

He knew many Elves, and every one of them was annoyingly overprotective. Perhaps it was better to comply and leave the peaceful darkness behind. No one enjoyed the mothering of Elves and he least of all.

Slowly he opened his eyes. Light assaulted him instantly and he blinked, trying to make out anything in front of his eyes. The brightness hurt his head and a throbbing awakened in his right temple.

Where was the merciful nothingness now?

He moaned softly and someone shielded his eyes from the bright daylight. A face hovered in front of his eyes and he could make out fair locks. The features were too blurry to recognize.

"You are awake, finally. You had me worried. How are you feeling? Is anything hurting more fiercely than the rest? I told you to rest, but you would not accept my counsel!"

_Éowyn!_

The voice was definitely hers, but the phrases and questions came out so fast it took him quite a while to understand what had been said.

_'Not only Elves are overprotective,' he amended in his thoughts, 'some Humans are as well.'_

"I'm fine," he rasped, surprised at how weak his voice sounded. He was not sure at all of his answer, but it was the first thing that came to his mind. Suddenly he remembered the reason why he was lying here and feeling as if he had had a fight with a pack of Wargs and lost badly.

The battle of Helms Deep was over. He was still in the fortress. Even after the Uruk-Hai had lost the combat, there were still some that stayed behind and engaged the Rohirrim in skirmishes. It began to darken again, when finally every one of the vile creatures in the stronghold was killed and the rest upon the field had fled.

There had been no time for rest after the fight. Injured soldiers needed to be tended, dead to be buried. No rest for the weary. Aragorn's skill as a healer was needed everywhere. He calmed the ones in pain, sewed severe gashes, washed grime and filth from wounds, made healing teas and comforted the ones doomed to die until they had drawn their last breath.

He laboured until the first rays of a rising sun greeted the land of Rohan again. Then his body proclaimed that it had finally had enough and shut down on its own.

Aragorn vaguely remembered tending to a dying boy with a heavily bleeding wound to the stomach. The boy had sobbed in pain the whole time, clinging to his mother's hand. Aragorn had tried to still the bleeding but he finally realised that there was nothing left to be done except easing the lad's agony. The boy's mother had begged him to help her son, embracing his legs and touching his cheeks. In spite of her pleading, he had given the lad a tea with pain-killing herbs and sedatives. The boy had not lasted long after sleeping peacefully for a while. There had been no more pain in the end.

After the boy had died Aragorn could only remember hauling himself to his feet and looking for support on the wall, one arm outstretched. The room spun dizzily, making it difficult for him to decide which was up and which was down. Then everything went black. He could not even remember how he fell.

"Aragorn? What ails you? Please, tell me."

Well, this question was quite a good one. His whole body seemed to consist of pain; it was hard to distinguish the places where the pain came from. He felt thoroughly exhausted and feverish, probably from the now infected wounds on his shoulders from the tumble of the cliff. And he felt ill. His head hurt, which was not all that surprising after his fall from the wall when it exploded.

_'Elladan and Elrohir would laugh at me for falling so many times in such a few days,' _he mused idly while Éowyn looked him up and down with a concerned gaze._ 'And after that, they would lecture me to no end.'_

A new source of pain suddenly penetrated his thoughts and left him gasping for breath. Éowyn had tried to lift his mail shirt to get a better view on his wounds and with that action she awoke a new pain in his side. Only now he remembered where he had it from. A Dunlending bolt from a crossbow had pierced his mail shirt and lodged itself deeply in his side. In the heat of battle, he had given the wound no attention, too entangled in the fight as he had been.

In the aftermath, he _had _felt the pain in his side, but he had never gotten the time to tend to it properly.

"Éowyn," Aragorn gasped. "Please… do not touch the… mail shirt!"

The White Lady was thoroughly confused by this plea, but complied. She reached for a blanket, then folded it together and shoved it under Aragorn's head as a pillow. He realised that he still lay on the ground of the dead boy's room, exactly where he had collapsed. Therefore he could not have been out for a very long time.

Éowyn studied his pale face for a long moment, then her gaze fell on her hands. Alarmed, she noticed red streaks of blood on her fingers and she looked again to Aragorn's side, where his mail shirt still covered most of his body.

"You are bleeding," she stated the obvious. "I need to see the wound, it will only trouble you more the longer it is left untended."

Aragorn nodded weakly, still trying to manage his pain. The bolt was moved only a tiny bit when Éowyn lifted the mail shirt but it was enough to send Aragorn into a new hell of agony. Desperately trying to stifle his cry of pain, he bit down hard on his lip. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth and the world around him seemed to waver in front of his eyes. The stony ceiling above him was in focus one moment, only to be a blotch of grey in the next second.

"Try and stay with me, Aragorn," he heard Éowyn's voice say as if she was miles away. "This wound is serious. How did you manage to conceal it for such a long time? And how, pray tell, did you stay on your feet the whole night with the loss of so much blood?"

"Practice," he whispered tiredly and felt the grip on consciousness slip from his fingers. He felt a new stab of pain in his side, and he knew no more.

Darkness encroached the land of Rohan. The mountains loomed like giants over the stony fortress of Helms Deep and cast the plains early in shadows. The coldness crept from the stony walls as soon as the sun did not send its rays over the keep anymore.

Legolas averted his gaze from the window and the landscape. Silently, he got up and fetched a second blanket, which he gently spread over the sleeping form of his friend. The Human stirred a bit, but did not wake.

The Elf sighed and tiredly rubbed his eyes. It was rare for his kind to feel such weariness but after more than eighty years of friendship with Aragorn, he had gotten used to this feeling. Whenever the Human was around, trouble was not far away.

He sighed again, this time more acutely. Oh, how he hated it when the Human got injured! He knew no one this stubborn when it came to injuries as Aragorn.

_'I should have noticed something was wrong,' _Legolas chided himself._ 'When does he ever come out of a battle unscathed?'_

Oh yes, there had been the battle with the Uruk-Hai at Amon Hen, as Boromir died. And the one time with the Ringwraiths at Amon Sûl, when Aragorn had been travelling with the Halflings.

'Perhaps these two fights, when he emerged safe and sound, have made me too careless. I almost got used to an Aragorn without injury.'

Legolas still felt his insides go cold when he thought back to the moment early this day when a very distressed Éowyn came running into the yard where he had been burying the dead with Gimli and told him that Aragorn lay bleeding and unconscious in one of the healing chambers. Leaving Gimli behind to fetch Gandalf and a healer, the Elf had gone with Éowyn and had found his friend as she had described him.

Aragorn's face had been terribly pale and only a faint rising of his chest indicated that he was merely unconscious. With nothing left to do other than waiting for the arrival of Gandalf and the healer, he had grabbed the Human's hand while speaking softly to him in the High Tongue.

Together with Éowyn, they had moved him carefully to the bed, where only half an hour prior the deadly wounded boy had lain. His drying blood still coated the blankets and mingled with the blood of Aragorn, which dropped steadily from the wound to his side.

Gandalf arrived a short time later, a healer in tow. The healer, Léod was his name, had not been happy at all to see the man, who had helped him greatly through the whole night, lying injured in bed. While Legolas and Gandalf each sat on one side of the bed and monitored Aragorn, the healer pulled out the bolt. Blood gushed from the wound unhindered now and Léod was pressed to staunch the flood quickly. He succeeded, but only barely. Dressing the wound had not been easy at all, because there were already first signs of infection setting in. The older injuries from the fight with the Wargs, which had gotten inflamed and had caused a low fever, were in addition weakening the Ranger. On top of it all, Aragorn had been running around with a concussion for the last day, which would cause him quite a headache when he awakened.

The healer, however, had mostly been concerned about the wound to his side. The loss of blood was not easy to deal with when a patient was already injured. The slightest movement could open it again.

For everyone in the room it was clear to see that Aragorn would not be getting up for a long time.

Legolas turned his gaze again to the window and over to the mountains, which were now fully blending in with the darkness of the night.

They were running out of time. Gandalf planned to go to Isengard soon and to make sure that Saruman could not be doing any harm again. There was more than that to the journey, but to Legolas' questions Gandalf had only answered, "Picking up a bit of long lost trouble."

_'Wizards and their secrets,' _Legolas thought, inwardly shaking his head but smiling nonetheless.

But Gandalf had made it clear that Legolas and Gimli should come with him in case that some scattered hords of Uruk-Hai would attack them. Only a few Rohirrim would be going with them because most of them were too exhausted and filled with grief over their dead relatives. They needed time for the burial and caring for the wounded.

Legolas did not look forward to leaving Aragorn behind, injured and alone as he was. Nevertheless he understood the importance of this mission. Gandalf would never ask such a thing of him if there was no reason behind. Two more days they would wait, on the third they would leave for Isengard.

A soft moan brought the Elf out of his thoughts and to the side of his friend in an instant. The Human stirred but stopped abruptly as the motion awoke pain in his side. His eyes flew open and only Legolas' quick reaction stopped Aragorn's hand from clutching his wounded side.

"Do not touch it, my friend. It will merely make the pain worse."

Aragorn's painfilled and slightly confused gaze stopped at the Elf's face. Legolas could see how hard his friend tried to focus on him and he smiled a little. Carefully, he sat on the bed and gave Aragorn enough time to look around and gather his bearings, while he stroked some tangled strands of hair out of his friend's face. The lecture could wait a little longer. Besides, it was no fun when the Human was too sleepy to be offended by his words.

"Don't make knots in it," Aragorn said softly and feebly tried to shove his friend's hand away from his hair.

Legolas chuckled, but let go of the Human's hair.

"My friend, your hair is hopeless anyway. I cannot make it worse than it is now."

"Not true," Aragorn murmured but the hint of a smile played around his lips.

"Yes Human, it is true. Along with quite a lot of other things you absolutely wanted to hide," Legolas said sternly and the smile immediately disappeared from Aragorn's lips as he felt a lecture coming. "What in Eru's name were you thinking to hide an injury like that?"

If Aragorn had not been in great pain already, he would have squirmed under the grim stare of the Elf.

"I would have tended to it, but there was no time," Aragorn answered softly, knowing fully well that his friend would not accept it as an excuse. "There were others in need Legolas, I could not let them die because of my discomfort."

"Discomfort?" Legolas asked, his voice deadly quiet. Then his demeanour changed from calm to downright fuming in less than an instant. The worry for his friend and the long days of fighting had made his temper short. "Discomfort? You are badly hurt! If you had left this wound a day longer untended, infection and blood loss would have caused your death, foolish Human!"

Aragorn, however, felt the anger rising in him as well. He was no child anymore, how dared the Elf speak to him as if he were a little boy of six years! Sixty years ago, he would have cringed under Legolas' angry words and tried to apologise but the situation was wholly different now. There was more at stake than there had been in his youth. Yes, he had been reckless and stupid sometimes in his life, but always there had been only his own life in danger. Unlike now. There were others who depended on him, on his leadership or on his skills as a healer. It was not just Legolas and him anymore.

"Do not call me foolish ever again," Aragorn said lowly. "Did you see the young boys in the fight? Did you see their mothers, praying that their sons and husbands may come back safely from battle? Have you seen the wounds, the gashes, the severed limbs, the men crying out in pain? How can you stand by and do nothing to help them? They believed in me during the battle and they believed in me afterwards to help them, to heal them! For all the mistakes I made in battle, they had to pay for! They are not just foolish Humans, as you tend to think of my race sometimes, Legolas, they are living beings and every one of them in this keep is dear to me!"

Aragorn did not realise that he was shouting now. His usually calm temper was at an end with all the fighting, the dying and his own hurts. The whole argument reminded him too much of their quarrel in the weaponry before the battle, but he could not stop himself.

Legolas stared at him, mouth agape, and the hurt he felt at the angry words from his friends reflected clearly in his eyes. Abruptly, he turned around and reached for the door when he heard the painfilled groan from the Human. The Elf hesitated, wishing to flee the stinging words and his friend's anger. Slowly he turned around.

Aragorn lay curled up on himself in bed, the pain written all over his taut features. He had rolled close to the edge of the bed and now lay in danger of falling off. Legolas refused to imagine what would be the consequences of a tumble from the bed for his already wounded friend.

In an instant he was back at the bed and caught Aragorn, as the Human rolled over the edge in his agony. The Elf felt him tighten more in his arms as the pain got worse.

"Shhh," Legolas soothed. "Another tumble would be one too many this week."

The Human did not answer. He just lay there, eyes tightly closed.

After some time, in which Aragorn remained unmoving in Legolas' arms, the Elf laid him back in the bed, thinking him asleep again. As Legolas pulled the blankets over the still form, grey eyes opened, glazed over in pain and exhaustion.

"I'm sorry, my friend," he whispered, not daring himself to look into the Elf's eyes. "I didn't mean to shout."

"It is alright," Legolas answered, even though his eyes still held the hurt of the angry words. "We will discuss it when you are a little stronger. I will leave you now to your rest."

Aragorn nodded, although he was unhappy to leave things as they were. However, he was too tired to keep his eyes open any longer and surrendered himself to the much needed sleep.

Legolas himself suddenly felt very tired. They really needed to talk! Aragorn's sudden outburst had left him pondering some aspects of their friendship of late.

The Human had never been a selfish person, even as a boy he had always liked to help others. Though he had loathed the burden of leadership, he had accepted it, although unwillingly. Nevertheless, his quality as a leader had shone through everything he did.

However, during the battle and last night, Aragorn had worked himself into exhaustion with such a dedication and determination that it surprised even Legolas. Something had changed Aragorn and though he had thoroughly overexerted himself this time, enormous strength and devotion had lain behind his every move.

Legolas had observed the men and women in the keep looking up to the Human, filled with hope and awe. And Aragorn seemed to accept his role. He seemed to be ready to be their leader and the men followed him willingly.

The defending of the fortress had demanded every ounce of this strength and concentration. The personal needs and personal pleasure had to be put aside even that of their long friendship. It stung Legolas to get neglected by his friend, even when everyone else gained from it, most of all Aragorn himself.

The Elf struggled some time with the fact that it had been jealousy for a good part that had let him act so strangely but finally learned to accept it as the truth.

Aragorn _had_ changed, he had grown to a strong leader, one that was ready to give everything. Legolas on the other hand had been unwilling to accept the change in Aragorn, he still saw the careless youth and reckless friend in him. He had even hindered the Human on his path with quarrels and doubts when he should have supported him.

Legolas hung his head in shame. Suddenly everything seemed much clearer, their disagreements and Aragorn pulling back from him. What an awful friend he had been for Aragorn! Now he felt thoroughly miserable and he turned halfway around to apologise to the Human, but then he remembered that his friend was asleep. Not a good time to disturb his rest now.

Still feeling depressed and shameful, the Elf went to the door and stepped out on the floor to go to find some rest. But he only took one step on the corridor before he came to a sudden stop.

Gandalf was leaning against the wall beside the door, lazily smoking his pipe.

"Are you feeling better now?" the old wizard asked in his deep calm voice, a knowing twinkle in his eyes.

"Why should _I_ be feeling better? I am not the one grievously hurt," Legolas responded, suspicion rising in him that Gandalf knew more than he let on.

"That depends on the way you are looking at it. Physically it is not you, you are correct there."

This answer served merely to strengthen Legolas' suspicion. He narrowed his eyes.

"Gandalf, have you been eavesdropping?"

The wizard only chuckled, smoke drifting from his mouth.

"My dear boy, there was no need to eavesdrop. I am sure the whole keep heard the two of you. I am relieved that Aragorn is finally awake. Although I am sure the shouting has done him no good."

There was no trace of accusation in Gandalf's voice, but Legolas still felt the blame lie heavily on his shoulders. The wizard pushed himself from the wall and laid a hand comfortingly upon the Elf's shoulder.

"Not all of this is your fault, Legolas. It is good that you noticed what is going on and I am sure that everything will work out in time. There will be more of the old Estel in Aragorn once the times are a bit calmer. But at the moment, you must let Estel go so that Elessar can come forth."

Legolas nodded, calmed a little by the soft words of the wizard. They slowly walked down the corridor until they came to a halt in front of the door to Legolas' guestroom which he shared together with Gimli. It was no real guestroom, just a small spare room for blankets and healing utensils, but it sounded very appealing to the weary Elf, even though there were merely two blankets on the floor instead of beds to sleep upon.

"Did you already tell Aragorn of our pending departure to Isengard?" Gandalf asked hesitantly, knowing full well that the Ranger would not like the idea of being left behind at all.

"No, I did not," the Elf answered determinedly. "And I will not. There are enough disagreements and arguments in our way already, I will not add a further one. Besides, it was _your _idea, therefore it will be_ you _who tells him."

Gandalf grumbled a little but finally agreed. A small smile crept onto the Elf's lips as he watched the wizard walking away, still mumbling to himself something about disrespectful young Elflings. Legolas closed the door, cast himself on the thin blanket on the floor and for the first time in many days, he got some well-deserved sleep.

-TBC-

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I am curious to hear what you think… I won't beg you for reviews, but please know that I would be very happy to get some feedback. As I said before, I appreciate constructive criticism as well.


	2. Chapter Two

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Sielge: I am happy you like the opening to this story, it should made the reader curious to read more. Glad it worked with you! =)

Grumpy: It's strange to have you writing a review to my story because you were always reviewing the same stories that I read before. To have you review now my story is… yes, as I said, feels odd to me – but not in a bad way! =)  
Thank you for the compliments about my writing style, they mean a lot to me.  
Hehe, now they are going to tell Aragorn that he isn't to come on the journey… Yes, I wouldn't want to tell him either!  
I fear this story won't go as far as the Paths of the Dead, I am sorry to disappoint you. Well, not all of the chapters are written out at the moment, everything is possible, but I don't intend to write as far.

AM: Hehe, when I wrote the "practice"-thing I thought exactly the same thing. The two really suffer a lot in the hands of the ff-writer… g  
I'm glad you liked the story up till now!

Ringmarciel: Yes, I normally don't write or read any fics that take place during LotR but this one just wanted to come out. I wouldn't have worked before, because I needed Aragorn as he is during LotR with all the leadership-thing. Glad you liked it nonetheless!  
Actually, I never liked Legolas in the books and in the movies, he only began to catch my interest in FFs. It is good to see that you liked that I pictured him a bit differently.

Catmint: blush Thank you a lot! I love your stories as well, most of all "Why?". I've written a ficlet with the same topic in it and I have some relation to it as well. If you're curious, you can find it in my authored story. It's the other story in English.

Elessar-Greenleaf: Thank you for the compliments! I always intend to keep the character IN-character, but I also like to give them an unknown touch of something else. Just take Legolas' jealousy as an example. I like to add some traits and feelings, but I always want to make it believable for the reader. I'm glad it worked this time! =)  
I don't like slash stories either. I know some homosexuals and they are all very nice and kind, it's not that I hate homosexuality I just don't like to read about Legolas and Aragorn being gay, that's all.  
You've written a novel? Really published and everything? I would like to publish a novel some day as well but I'm far away from it at the moment. Nevertheless, writing is fun and I will keep doing it though I don't get paid for it. =)

Yavanna: knuddel Schön dich auch hier zu sehen! Und mich freut es natürlich sehr, dass dir auch diese Geschichte hier gefällt. Ja, am Anfang, wenn man es sich nicht gewohnt ist, dann ist es schon etwas schwierig, sich bei solchen Geschichten auf Englisch reinzulesen, aber glaub mir, man lernt es extrem schnell.  
Nein, ich war noch nie auf einem Austauschjahr. Das längste das ich je in einem englischsprachigen Land was, das war England London, und da waren wir eine Woche… ;) Ich habe aber meine Englischkenntnisse auch nicht wirklich vom Unterricht, obwohl ich da auch sehr gefördert werde. Es kommt tatsächlich grösstenteils vom Lesen von Büchern und eben auch FFs. Es ist erstaunlich, wie sich meine Kenntnisse verbessert haben seit ich englische FFs lese… Und nun bin ich sogar so weit, auf Englisch zu schreiben, was übrigens sehr schön ist. Anders irgendwie, aber trotzdem schön.  
Gut dass dir der Konflikt zwischen Aragorn und Legolas gefällt, der wird nämlich noch eine Rolle im weiteren Verlauf spielen. Und wie er darauf reagiert, dass er nicht mit nach Isengard darf, das erfährst du jetzt in diesem Kapitel… ;)

Aragornwriter: Thank you a lot! You already gave me a lot of trust in myself because of your long e-mail and I am so glad you like the story.  
This new dimension between Aragorn and Legolas as you call it was very important to me, I wanted to show their relationship from a different side. I'm glad that you liked Éowyn she is going to play an important role in the story later. She is even a bit more important than Legolas… But don't mention that to the Legolas-fans out there or they won't read my story anymore. =))  
I don't mind not getting more reviews, I liked every one I got for this chapter. You pointed out very clearly that my story is readable and I believe in your opinion quite strongly because I know what a skilled writer you are yourself. So thank you again, you are just wonderful!

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Thanks to anyone who took the time to review, I appreciated every single review I got.

Here comes the second chapter. I fear I won't be able to post the third chapter as soon as I posted this one but believe me that I will keep on writing. I am going on vacation next week so I won't have much time to write on this story. And I have another story going on in German, which I can't neglect either so please be patient with me.

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**Chapter Two**

The heavy-laden tray swayed precariously as the Shieldmaiden of Rohan stepped around the corner and pushed the wooden door open. Sunrays danced merrily on the stone floor of the small room as if they still celebrated the victory of the Rohirrim two days ago and the beautiful morning promised to become a sunny and warm day in early spring.

Éowyn, however, had no attention left for the weather, her concentration lay elsewhere. Moving quietly to the nightstand, she put down the tray loaded with a light breakfast, bandages, herbs, water and two fresh linen blankets. She straightened up, but her gaze never left the form of the sleeping man in the bed. His features were relaxed, although even in sleep a slight frown rested on his face. He had seemed ragged and weatherworn to her when she had first seen him on the steps in front of Meduseld, the Golden Hall in Edoras, but now his countenance was peaceful and soft, almost youthful. An air of dignity and nobility she had not detected before surrounded him and she thought him beautiful, just laying there.

A slight blush reddened her cheeks as she caught herself staring at him in such an unrefined way. Shaking her head she tried to drive away the unwanted thoughts but they clung to her mind as her gaze still clung to Aragorn's face.

Éowyn stood there for long moments before she remembered her task and with a sigh, she stepped to the side of his bed, bending one knee so that she was closer to him. She was loath to wake him from his peaceful slumber but she knew that she had to, nevertheless.

"Lord Aragorn," she said softly stretching out one hand to touch him upon the shoulder. "Lord Aragorn, you must wake."

With almost childlike fascination she watched him struggle to open his eyes at her gentle touch and look around bleary-eyed. His gaze cleared a bit when it came to rest upon her face.

"Lady Éowyn," he murmured, his voice still rough from sleep. "It is becoming quite a habit of mine, your face being the first thing I see when I open my eyes."

She laughed lightly at his jest and was happy to see a smile grace his lips as well.

"I hope you are not too disappointed that it is none of your friends are at your side, but merely a plain woman of Rohan."

A shadow ghosted over Aragorn's face as he remembered his quarrel with Legolas the evening before but he mastered his features quickly as he saw Éowyn misreading his change of mood.

"There is so much light and strength around you, Milady, no man could hope better than to see your face. It lifts my spirits at once. And you are no mere woman, you know that."

Éowyn's face lit up at his gentle words. There lay friendship and politeness behind his words, nothing more, but her heart was tempted to read in them something deeper. She smiled at him, reaching for the tray with food on it.

"I brought you breakfast. Here is bread and a bowl of milk for you. I could not find anything better in the keep."

Something akin to shame lay in her voice for the meagre breakfast, but he accepted it gratefully for he had not eaten anything for some days. Silence fell over the room while Aragorn sat in bed, slowly eating what had been given to him. He still felt ill and his head wound troubled him so he managed to eat only half the food she brought.

"Thank you," he said and gave her the bowl back before he carefully lay down again, resting his aching head against the soft pillows.

"I need to see to your wounds before you go to sleep again."

For a short moment, Aragorn was tempted to tell her that he felt fine, but he doubted that it would work with her.

_'Well,' _he reminded himself._ 'Did it _ever _work? Well, I can't remember, but it is always worth a try.'_

"Roll up your shirt. And do not even try to declare yourself recovered. I will not give up bothering you before I have seen the wound."

Éowyn's voice was firm and she stemmed her hands in her hips, looking down at him sternly.

_'So much for my plan….'_

Aragorn tried to look at her with big innocent eyes, but she held her ground, a cloth and a bowl of water in one hand. The man sighed tiredly and rolled up his shirt to reveal a heavy layer of white bandages around his middle. There were only a few spots of red to be seen on the outside layer where it had bled through the dressing.

"Oh, you actually managed to stay in bed and not make the bleeding worse," Éowyn said in a praising, slightly sarcastic voice. "I am very proud of you."

_'Well, I did not have a lot of opportunities to escape, I was unconscious or sleeping most of the time' _Aragorn mused.

"I would never act differently," the Ranger said in a hesitant voice and was instantly met with the gaze of a highly doubtful Éowyn. Her eyebrows climbed so high that they nearly disappeared in her hairline, making her slightly resemble Elrond, Lord of Rivendell.

"Of course," was her only answer beside a snort.

Aragorn felt a bit insulted by her sarcasm but every thought of light banter and humour disappeared from his thoughts when the White Lady had laid free his injured side and began to cleanse it with a soft cloth. The pain clouded his vision and his mind. All he could do was restrain himself from clutching his side.

Everything began to swim out of focus again, but he clung to awareness like a lost sailor to a piece of wood in the raging sea. He would not pass out in front of Éowyn again… he would not pass out… he would not…

The next sensation he became aware of was the comfortable feeling of a cool cloth, wiping his forehead. There were voices again, talking softly to each other. The cloth and the coldness disappeared suddenly, only to be replaced by a fresh one some moments later. Aragorn gave a sigh of contentment as the coolness took away the worst of his headache. The cloth vanished again and this time did not return back to him after a few seconds.

Aragorn was not pleased at all. They did this deliberately, only to lure him back to wakefulness! The Human opened his eyes to glare at the person who denied him that simple pleasure but when he saw how many people were present, the cloth and the headache lay forgotten.

There was Gandalf, right next to him, sitting in a chair and holding a bowl of water and the cloth. Gimli stood beside Gandalf and one hand played with his long beard, eyes distant and deep in thoughts. Near the door, leaning on the wall was Éomer, Marshall of the Riddermark, an earnest expression on his face. And the last one in the room was Legolas, his friend from long ago. The Elf stood at the window, seemingly a bit apart from the others. His gaze was not on his Human friend, but on the wide plains and the mountains.

Guilt overcame Aragorn and he comprehended that their argument was not yet sorted out.

"It is good you are awake, my boy," Gandalf said calmly. "We need to talk."

Aragorn nodded, pushing himself a bit upright against the pillow and - he only noticed now - the clean blankets around him. Éowyn must have brought them with her.

"I see," the Ranger said, trying to put some strength in his wavering voice. "It must be something important or you would not all be here. Is there bad news?"

A feeling of unease washed over him as the picture of a second army of Uruk-Hai attacking the fortress came to his mind. Or had something happened to Éowyn or the king?

"No, it is not what you think," Gandalf reassured him, easily reading and interpreting the concern on Aragorn's face. "But we still need to undo the source of war, the source of the evil. We must make sure the one who stands behind all this destruction cannot build such an army again. You know who it is, don't you?"

"Saruman," Aragorn answered, a growing sense of apprehension filling his mind.

Gandalf nodded.

"Yes exactly. He still sits in his tower, perhaps working on a new plan already. We cannot let him do this unhindered, Aragorn, we must restrain him. Beside that, I have a meeting to attend in Isengard."

"When do you plan to go?"

Aragorn looked from one to the other, but all of his friends refused to meet his gaze. Finally, Gandalf sighed, rubbing his brow.

"Tomorrow morning. We plan to leave at first light. When all goes well, we will be back in four days."

Silence lay over them like a heavy blanket. After a while Aragorn asked softly, "You do not intend to take me with you, do you? You will leave me behind."

The wizard took his chair and moved a bit closer to the bed.

"I am sorry to say this, but yes, we will leave you here. You are not fit to go anywhere and we intend to make haste. There is no way you could keep up with us in your present condition. And even if you were able to keep up, I would not allow it. You need to heal, Aragorn, you need to rest and get better, because there are many tasks only you can master."

There was again a long silence, everyone was holding his breath and waiting for Aragorn to speak. But the Ranger just closed his eyes, turning his head away, seemingly accepting his lot.

"You have to understand," Éomer spoke up now, stepping up to Aragorn's bed. "I would have sent some of my men to get this piece of work done, but there are not many left. Some of them are injured, the rest is grieving. I have to give them time or they will lose their trust in me."

"You do not need to justify yourself, Éomer. I understand perfectly well."

Aragorn's tone was cold, but weariness was streaking through it again, like a threadbare cloth. Oh yes, he understood.

"You will be well here, laddie," Gimli commented, giving his legs a reassuring pat. "We will be back in no time."

The Ranger only nodded, closing his eyes again.

"We will be leaving you to your rest, then," Gandalf said and stood up.

Gimli and Éomer moved to the door, only Legolas remained where he was standing at the window for some moments longer. Then he faced Aragorn, gave him a small smile and said, "I will look in on you later."

Aragorn nodded and the Elf left the room as well. The heavy door fell shut and only then the Human opened his eyes again, staring unseeingly at the ceiling.

He was left behind.

He knew he should not feel so frustrated and disappointed, it was only for his best that they left him here, but nevertheless, the unwanted feelings assaulted him like a pack of angry wolves. Never, not once in his life he had been left behind when such an important mission had been at stake. He had always managed to complete his tasks, even when injured.

Besides, he felt that this mission was dangerous, he sensed it with every fibre of his being. But did the others feel it, too? They had to be warned, or even better, he should be going with them.

However, he clearly knew that this was impossible. He was a healer himself and he recognized the signs his body was sending him unmistakably. There was no way he could stay on a horse for a whole day without ripping open all of his wounds and bleeding to death. Nor was he able to even stay on his two feet for any length of time. He would be a hindrance to his friends if he went with them.

A heavy sigh came deeply from his heart and suddenly frustration welled up in him with new force. He would have liked to throw something at the wall but there was nothing in his reach and getting up was no option, so he started banging his head on the wooden headboard behind him. He hated his weakness and vulnerability! There were so many things left to be done and he was bound to this bed. He should be out there, looking after the wounded, rebuilding the wall, coming up with new plans and most of all accompanying Gandalf and the others to Isengard because he felt the danger out there very clearly. They still depended on him and he could not let them down because of his injury or he would make an awful leader.

Aragorn's head started to hurt again with an unknown fierceness because of the constant banging and he had to stop it. Mangling himself would not help the others a bit.

Lying down again, he felt his thoughts wander and consciousness rapidly fleeing him. The next moment, all of his problems did not matter anymore for he was fast asleep.

Éowyn held a bowl of water to the lips of an older man with a serious leg injury. The man had been feverish and in pain for the last few days. Éowyn did not know whether he would survive the next day or not. Still, she did everything in her power to help him and the other injured.

The small hall was filled with wounded from the battle who lay on their blankets, some of them moaning in pain, others abnormally quiet. Healers rushed from man to man. Every one of them had the same tired nearly listless expression on their face, but they still carried on.

Éowyn sighed and straightened up from the bed of the injured man, wiping away a strand of hair from her face. Her fingers were bloody and left a streak of red in her once golden hair.

This was the room for the badly wounded. The battle had been three days ago but still some of the men were fighting for their life. None of the ones in here held a big chance to survive.

She took the empty bowl and stepped through the door of the room to go and fetch fresh water as she saw her brother passing by, quietly talking to Gandalf. Gimli, the Dwarf, and Legolas were also with them.

"I did not think he would surrender this easily and without protest," Éowyn picked up the last phrase of her brother. "He did not even seem to mind."

"That is where you err, my friend," Gandalf said calmly to Éomer. "He minded a lot that he is to stay here. However, I was a bit surprised, too, that he did not object. Anyway, Aragorn will be fine here. We have to prepare some things for our journey now, there is not much time left."

They intended to step down the stairs to go to the stables but Éowyn run up to her brother and held him back at the sleeve.

"What journey, Éomer? Where do you plan to go?"

Éomer turned to his sister, somewhat surprised at her sudden appearance but he answered her nevertheless.

"We will go to Isengard, dear sister. It is because of Saruman, the false friend of Rohan, that so many men lost their lives. We will bring him to fall and his high tower with him!"

Éowyn pulled back as she heard the anger in her brother's voice but she was not yet satisfied with the answer.

"Why did you never mention such a journey to me?"

"It is not a big journey," Éomer tried to pacify his sister. "We will not be gone for a long time."

"I want to come with you," Éowyn said firmly.

While Gandalf and the others watched, Éomer took his sister's slender hands in his rough ones.

"No, Éowyn. Your place is here, I would not be able to think straight when your life could be in danger. I love you dearly, you know this. However, a foul wizard and a horde of scattered Uruk-Hai are no place for a woman."

Éowyn snatched her hands away, eyes ablaze.

"You think I am not made for war, but what I see inside this room of the injured every day teaches me more of battle and its deadly power than you think. I feel hatred as well, for this enemy of Rohan. I want to feel the sweetness of revenge, too! Why do you deny me this right? I am a Shieldmaiden of Rohan, no nurse-maid! I can fight!"

Éomer raised his hands to placate his sister, but when Éowyn still saw the hard resolve in his eyes, she turned around and run away.

She hurried up the stairs, all the while tears streaming down her eyes in frustration. She needed to get out of here! Finally she pushed open a wooden door and stepped out on the battlement, the wind catching in her hair immediately and dishevelling it all the more. Breathing in deeply, she sank down beside the wall, trying to stop her uncontrollable sobbing. Fortunately, there was no one out on the battlements at this early hour in the evening and no one would see her like this.

Éowyn still felt angry with her brother, but slowly the heat of shame flowed in her cheeks as well. What would the others think of her now? She had behaved as if she was a small girl who was denied a simple pleasure!

_'But why did they not understand?' _she asked herself desperately._ 'I want to fulfil my part in this war, too. And it does not consist of caring for the injured and bringing food to the hungry.'_

The wind took away the dryness of her tears and the heat of her shame. She was able to breathe normally again without it hitching in her throat every time she sucked in the fresh air. Resting her head on her drawn up knees, she stared up in the sky. There was only one positive aspect to the whole thing. She would not be staying here alone.

**- TBC -**


	3. Chapter Three

_Hi!_

_I truly apologise for keeping you waiting this long. Somehow, private life messed up with me the last few weeks and I only now started writing again. I have another story I would like to finish and so I neglected this one a bit… I am sorry, really.  
But now I finally managed to force me writing again on this story again and here is chapter three. I hope you are still with me and enjoy the story!_

_I thank all my reviewers of chapter two! It doesn't make sense to answer to them now because I think that you have long forgotten what you've written in the reviews… ;)_

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Chapter Three

Dust was whirled up from the hooves of the horses on the dusty plain where the riders disappeared in the distance. They were only small black spots now, not recognisable persons anymore. Nevertheless, Aragorn knew exactly who was departing to Isengard: Gandalf, Legolas, Gimli, Théoden, Éomer and some of the Rohirrim.

Below in the keep, people started to get back into daily routine. Babies cried, children were playing on the stairs, women hurried around to get food for their families and even some hesitant laughter could be heard. The men were busy with the repair of the wall and the banging of hammers could be perceived even on the upper battlement.

Aragorn averted his gaze again from the life in the keep to the departing company but he was unable to make them out any longer in the distance.

His hands trembled from exhaustion where they gripped the stony wall but stubbornly he had ignored the advice of the healers and had come on the battlement to see off his friends. The people, some of them worried to see their king leave so soon after the battle, had sung at their departure as was the custom in Rohan and many of the Rohirrim had wished them a good journey and a safe return.

Aragorn had watched everything from the battlement. The way down to the wall and up again would have cost him too much of the little strength he possessed.

Legolas had not been happy at all to see his Human friend standing on the battlement, white as the wall behind him and clad only in a pair of loose fitting breeches and a linen shirt. But the Elf had been tired of arguing with Aragorn and he had just waved at the Human as a farewell.

Their last encounter had not quite ended as Aragorn had wished. As he had promised, the Elf had come early this day to say his farewell and to sort out the tension between them. Aragorn had been unsure of what to say and the right words would not come to Legolas either, so they had ended up saying a few awkward words to each other and staring at the wall in an uncomfortable silence for the rest of time. When the Elf had finally brought himself to speak about what troubled his soul, Aragorn had already been half asleep again and the words had pulled him out of his dozing. Seeing this, Legolas had been hesitant to continue and finally came to the decision to sort out everything after their journey. He had left Aragorn, who had had a hard time keeping his eyes open then, with a few polite words.

Now, the Human cursed his sleepiness. The healers had given him a painkilling potion which had left him drowsy for half the day and still clung to his mind like a sticky paste. He would have liked to say many things to Legolas but everything would have to wait now.

He had also spoken to Gandalf about the bad feeling he had had every time he thought of the journey of his friends. The wizard knew that Aragorn possessed the gift of foresight but this time he could not bring himself to trust the Human's warnings as much as he wanted. Gandalf still saw the deeply hidden frustration in the Ranger about being left behind and he thought that Aragorn's own predicament had made his judgement a bit overanxious. Besides, the Human still fought a low fever which had made his dreams uneasy of late.

The wizard had believed Aragorn to feel danger and he had sworn him to pay attention but he would have done so even without the Human reminding him.

Aragorn felt his whole body begin to tremble with cold as he still stood at the battlement even though the figures long had disappeared behind the hills. Going back to bed became a very tempting idea but he feared to let go of the supporting wall. His knees felt weak and the pain in his side had gotten worse the last few minutes.

Suddenly he heard the rustle of fabric behind him and a second later, a blanket was placed around his shoulders. For a short moment he felt like a very young boy again, tightly wrapped in blankets.

Lady Éowyn stepped next to him on the battlement and looked in the same direction where his own gaze had rested for a long while and where the riders had disappeared some time ago. Then she faced him, a serious expression on her face.

"You gave me quite a fright when I could not find you in your room."

"I wanted to see them off," Aragorn answered quietly.

"I came to the same conclusion after a time. However, they are gone now and it is still too cold to stand here only dressed as you are. You will catch a cold on top of everything else."

He looked at her tiredly.

"Does it even matter anymore?"

Éowyn stared at him, mouth open, too surprised for the moment to retort anything.

Sighing, Aragorn let his head drop on his hands that were propped up on the wall. Wonderful, simply wonderful! He had not meant to say the last phrase aloud it had just escaped his mouth. Now Éowyn would think him either suicidal or pathetic, which were both very thrilling options.

"What was that remark meant for?" Éowyn asked lowly, a hidden flame blazing in her eyes.

"Do not pay attention to what I say, Lady Éowyn. It is just that I feel that I am needed elsewhere and that I do not belong here. I should be out there with my friends, not in this keep as if I was a burden that no one cared to take with him."

Aragorn's answer was a bit muffled through the fabric of his shirt as he still rested his heavy head on his forearms. There was no sound to be heard for some time and he finally got a bit concerned because of the lack of answer from Éowyn. He slowly lifted his head to see what made her this quiet.

Éowyn stood a few paces away from him, head turned in the other direction. She trembled a little which made him worry a bit more and her hands were balled to fists.

Pushing away from the wall, Aragorn stepped around her to see what had rendered her silent, but she stubbornly refused to meet his gaze.

"Éowyn, what is it? Is it something I said?"

She breathed heavily as if to control herself, then she turned to face him and met his gaze squarely. To his bewilderment, her eyes were hard and her lips pressed tightly together in anger.

"Yes," she said lowly, the tone of her voice icy. "Actually, it is something that you said. I always held your name in high esteem, my lord, but it seems that you are no different than the other men."

Éowyn abruptly turned around and intended to leave him behind on the battlements, but an arm ranked around her shoulders and held her back. Furiously, she tried to shake the hand away and break loose of the grasp, not in the least caring about what kind of pain this action would wake in Aragorns's injured side. However, the grip on her shoulder was so firm it hurt the soft flesh beneath.

"Let me go, you are hurting me!" she snapped at Aragorn but he just shook his head in denial.

"Not before you told me what made you this angry at me."

Éowyn stopped her struggle after a time and gave a sigh of frustration.

"Fine! I will tell you, but first let me go."

Aragorn nodded, releasing the tight grip on her arm. Sweat poured down from his pale face and he felt himself trembling like mad. Waves of pain spread out from the wound in his side and left him gasping for breath. By the way the wound hurt him, he also knew with near certainty that it had started to bleed again. Nevertheless, Éowyn's sudden outburst bothered him more than he liked to admit and he needed to know what had made her this angry.

He had grown to like her, the gentleness of her spirit and her hands were soothing to him in many ways. Yet there was a fierceness to her temperament he had not explored before in a woman.

"Please, Éowyn, tell me what bothers you. I do not want to lose your friendship because of some careless words."

Standing in front of him, she suddenly looked frail, the white dress being harassed by the rough winds. She closed her eyes and when she opened them again, her gaze was not directed at him anymore but on the plains that stretched out before the keep.

"You think that you do not belong here," she spoke softly, not looking at him. "You think that you should be doing something different, something of more importance. All along you are only thinking of yourself. You claim that you do not want to lose my friendship, but nevertheless you would leave me behind in this keep without a second thought if you would be able to."

Aragorn felt as if she had slapped him. He wanted to open his mouth and speak but she cut him off with a brusque movement of her hand.

"You wanted me to talk, now let me speak. Perhaps you have not noticed, but there are others who would like to be doing something else as well. You know, not all of us are looking forward to a life in the keep, even if it is only for a short time. But the villages are burnt, the cattle scattered or dead and the harvest destroyed. Many of my people cannot return to their homes as you can return to your tasks when you are healed. Nevertheless you are complaining as if you were the one most betrayed by this war."

Éowyn's voice had died down to a whisper.

"You only get a taste of what I feel most of the time. Oh, how I know how it feels to be left behind! There is so much I wish to do, I wish to accomplish, but I will never be allowed to do what I want."

"What is it that you wish, Éowyn?" Aragorn asked softly, feeling ashamed, moved and enlightened at the same time.

"I wish to fight!" she whispered fervently. "Fight for my country, for my people! Fight as you do, side by side with your friends and bringing victory to all those whom I love. It is no big wish."

Aragorn hung his head, one hand on his forehead, not daring to meet her gaze. Silence came between them and only the wind could be heard rushing over the plains, for he failed to come up with an answer to her desperate yearning. He opened to voice his apology, but her gaze turned cold as ice and she took a step back.

"No," Éowyn warned, her eyes narrowed to slits. "Keep your pity to yourself, I do not want to hear that now."

Still angry, she turned away from him and walked to the door.

"I will inform a healer to help you get back to your bed, my lord."

**- TBC -**

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_I hope I get myself to update sooner this time, but I cannot promise anything…_


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